


The Day Before You Came

by Karfraegh18



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karfraegh18/pseuds/Karfraegh18
Summary: Really I seriously don't know WHERE this one came from... but it was inspired by a song by Abba called The Day Before You Came (no sniggering at the back please). The song was then covered by Blancmange (the band!). Jensen's life is safe and normal and he has just got a promotion to cover the San Antonio Office. This is the day before he meets... him...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:**  
>  lyrics are in italics  
> 

_I must have left my house at eight, because I always do_

_My train, I'm certain, left the station just when it was due_

_I must have read the morning paper going into town_

_And having gotten through the editorial, no doubt I must have frowned_

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

Jensen Ross Ackles, thirty-one, was regional manager for the whole of central Dallas. His speciality was the selling of photocopiers, but it was him that had saved Standard Office Supplies by suggesting that photocopiers were on the way out and that maybe SOS should be investing time in printers. Third quarter sales were looking good on his advice. In fact Jensen wouldn’t be surprised if old man Standard didn’t offer him coverage for the San Antonio Office as well, with all the associated benefits. Jensen leant back on the seat of the train, a small smile on his face. Jensen Ackles, VP, SOS: Texas. It had a nice ring, and it helped that the position came with a company Prius and a ten thousand dollar wage increase.

 

He was only $63,000 dollars away from the apartment being totally _his_. OK it was a small apartment, and the neighbours verged on odd, but it was his. Even if he had to cope with Mr Burton and his wife Millicent and their evil smelling black cat on a daily basis, he had property. At the end of the day that is what mattered. Once his door was shut on his one bedroom, one bathroom, small kitchen, apartment then he could forget the weird languages his neighbours spoke, and the suspicious blockages in his waste disposal pipes.

 

He flicked open his paper, jeez; his portfolio had dropped another four points, damn economy. The editorial was all about the vote for gay marriage and how a yes vote meant the wrong direction for society as a whole. Not for the first time he wondered why it was that he even read the Dallas Herald. But…looking at the other commuters, with their Heralds folded with great ingenuity to take up minimum space in the crowded compartment, he knew he had to read it to stay on top of his game.

 

He stood ten minutes out of the station, meaning he was first off the train, it was the only way to get those extra minutes at his desk.

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

_I must have made my desk around a quarter after nine_

_With letters to be read, and heaps of papers waiting to be signed_

_I must have gone to lunch at half past twelve or so_

_The usual place, the usual bunch_

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

Jensen sat in his cubicle. He hated it, with its temporary walls and it’s grey colour, it was too small, too exposed in the main office. Still, as VP, he would move to having a double cubicle and the thought made him smile with satisfaction. He could have his own printer too. No sharing with Vince from accounts, or that creepy blond haired guy. The one who leant over the grey sides of Jensen’s cubicle insinuating inappropriately about Anna from Marketing and her huge boobs.

 

He signed off on a new deal, $12,000 of HP printers to the local high school. They never even asked for the education discount. Win win.

 

Lunch was alfalfa salad with no dressing and bottled water at Simpsons, the usual hangout for SOS staff. He sat next to Vince, opposite Anna, and diagonal from blond guy, or Chad as he liked to be called (who was it who called their kid Chad? Really who?). A simple check in the mirror of the bathroom at his hair and then back to his desk.

 

The call into the main office was expected, rumours had made there way to his ears that they wanted to speak to him

 

He got the job covering San Antonio. The current state of the economy meant he wasn’t going to get a pay rise, and was it also OK to stay in the cubicle he was in until Vince retired, which was, after all, only eighteen months? Jensen ignored concerns about either. San Antonio was rich pickings for printer sales. Bonuses here we come.

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

_And still on top of this I'm pretty sure it must have rained_

_The day before you came_

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

The rain wasn’t really a problem. Well it wouldn’t have been if he’d remembered to bring his umbrella. God damn it.

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

_I must have lit my seventh cigarette at half past two_

_And at the time I never even noticed I was blue_

_I must have kept on dragging through the business of the day_

_Without really knowing anything, I hid a part of me away_

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

His role covering Dallas was stressful, incredibly stressful. People didn’t realise how intricate the world of printers was. He had two recalls, a credit problem from the Richardson branch, and Vince had managed to lose 50% of his budget in a spreadsheet snaffle. Shuffling carefully past the Manager’s office he joined Anna on the back fire escape, lighting a cigarette and inhaling like his life depended on it.

 

She told him she had filed a sexual harassment claim against one Chad Michael Murray, and was sleeping with Vince. She also explained carefully how she kept her dildo collection clean with some new wipes she had discovered. It was amazing what got exchanged over cigarettes. Jensen revealed his promotion. Anna suggested drinks, pushing her perky boobs at him with intent. Jensen assumed he was now a better mark than the geriatric Vince, but managed to fight her off.

 

God this job was so damn stressful.

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

_At five I must have left, there's no exception to the rule_

_A matter of routine, I've done it ever since I finished school_

_The train back home again_

_Undoubtedly I must have read the evening paper then_

_Oh yes, I'm sure my life was well within its usual frame_

_The day before you came_

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

Five o’clock and he was OUT OF THE BUILDING. Yeah, take that management. Admittedly he had a box of papers to sign, and a finance report to reconcile; still it was the principle of the thing. He had a new episode of 24 to download and Chinese was calling to him.

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

_I must have opened my front door at eight o'clock or so_

_And stopped along the way to buy some Chinese food to go_

_I'm sure I had my dinner watching something on TV_

_There's not, I think, a single episode of 24 that I didn't see_

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

The sweet and sour chicken was a bit congealed this time and Jensen made a mental note to remonstrate with Mr Wong at length when next he visited. The Wongs would have to treat him a little more special now he had the San Antonio office as well. He was important. Stressed. Important. He flicked through the channels, placing the empty cartons of Chinese to one side, opening his trousers and settling his hand round his dick, leaning back, ready to enjoy watching Jack kick ass. He wasn’t intending to bring himself off; the hold was just comfort. 

 

It had been a successful but demanding day.

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

I must have gone to bed around a quarter after ten

I need a lot of sleep, and so I like to be in bed by then

I must have read a while

The latest one by Stephen King or something in that style

It's funny, but I had no sense of living without aim

The day before you came

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

He finished 24, damn presidents and their double-dealings, poor Jack all tied up and tortured. He wiped away the come on his hand with the serviette from the Wongs (that will make up for congealed sweet and sour), wondering if they sprayed fake sweat on Jack Bauer’s heaving body or if it was real. Enquiring minds and all that.

 

He climbed into bed, signing off the papers he had, and finding the missing money on the third reconciliation. Damn Vince and his _two plus two equals five_ form of accountancy. If he wasn’t so close to retiring Jensen may well have had to encourage some form of written warning. 

 

He turned over, the peace of his small apartment washing over him. 

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

_And turning out the light I must have yawned and cuddled up for yet another night_

_And rattling on the roof I must have heard the sound of rain_

_The day before you came_

 

~~~ ** ~~~

 

Well, what little peace there was, just shattered at the sound from the next apartment. Damn cats. Jensen turned in his half sleep, the noises becoming louder, some shouting, and that really was the final straw. He had a VERY IMPORTANT teleconference with the North Carolina office in the morning, early. Damn it.

 

He climbed out of the bed, pulling on jeans riding low on his hips, a Dallas Cowboys tee stretched tight across his chest. He heard strange things every night from that damn apartment…but tonight… that was going too damn far.

 

He flung open his door, turning to their front door, knocking and feeling it open under his push. Poking his head around the corner he called out, but no one answered. Sighing he took a step in, and stepped straight into hell.

 

A tall man, and his neighbours…only not his neighbours, the shape of his neighbours, distorted and skin that was…gray…wrinkled…teeth yellowed and curved…the taller man pinned by his throat, a flash of a silver coloured knife in his hand, and one of his… erm… neighbours spitting meaningless noise into the tall guys face and threatening him with some kind of stick that was attached to him. He watched in horror as the tall man was shouting words back at them, blood running in rivers from his _neighbours_ neck as the tall man’s knife sliced through his throat and his vocal chords. 

 

The strange chanting from the thing stopped, and the hold on the tall man faltered, allowing tall man to fall to the floor even as the thing tumbled back jerking in death throws on the floor. The second _thing_ moved in, a scream of defiance in a language Jensen had never heard, almost impaling themselves on the knife that tall man held in his hands. 

 

Tall man was still chanting, it sounded maybe Latin, a strange song of words. Finally all was quite, so much blood decorated the room and tall man turned, surprised to see Jensen stood there, blinking, and then rubbing blood covered hands on his jeans and extending his hand. 

 

“Wraiths. Who’da thought,” he said simply, “Padalecki,” he added, “Jared Padalecki.”

 

 

THE END


End file.
